


Lace and a Roast

by Astray



Series: Bones, Skulls, and Kittens [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Nix is getting more tats, and still finds the time to roast idiots, dealing with prejudices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 10:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: Nix takes advantage of summer breaks to do what any self-respecting professor would do: getting more ink. One drawback is, aside from participating in the ruination of Stick's sight, that she would inevitably run into students. And their parents, some of whom have opinions.





	Lace and a Roast

**Author's Note:**

> Stick and Poke belong to the lovely Kristune ; Anomaly and Killer belong to the adorable Starofwinter. Both have been kind enough to let me 'borrow' them for this ficlet. 
> 
> You can find their Flowers and Tattoos AU here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/671504
> 
> If you want beautifully crafted stories, amazing characters, and compelling writing, look no further.

It was break, and she got the house to herself. Delta and Boba were at her parents’, and when her mother had learned that Delta had a friend at home, Karen was invited right away. Jango just got back from work but he would be useless for a couple of days. She was relieved to have scheduled her appointment at the tattoo parlour well in advance, though. She was there early, but still saw kids milling around with flashes. She was greeted by Killer. She liked him, he was so sweet she was fairly sure she would get cavities just talking to him for an appointment. Although maybe it was for the best, because she was fairly sure that Stick would murder her before the sleeve is done. Anomaly showed up just before it was time for her appointment. He seemed brighter than the last time she had seen him - and at the back of her head, Jango was mocking her for being the worst Closeted Mom ever.

Turned out that Stick did not hate her that much. Aside from a “it might take forever, but hey, you want lace, you get lace. If I go blind, I’ll just have you pay my ophtalmologist bills.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“Heck no.” She was pretty sure she heard Poke calling him a masochist but chose not to say anything. She stayed mostly silent, letting Stick work. 

“You’re chattier, usually.”

“I’m not teaching this semester, so I didn’t get to murder students.”

“Seriously, Nix, why don’t you teach high-school?” Stick mock glared at her. She shook her head. 

“I used to. Found that I wanted to murder too many parents for me to adopt their kids. And I’m not sure that’d be healthy. Like, Hi, I just murdered your abusive asshole parents, and I’m gonna adopt you.”

“Who knows?”

“Nah. University is fine for now. And really, my kids are growing up. I’m done with teenagers.”

“Wait, who are you and what did you do to the ten platypi in a trench-coat?” Called Poke from where he was sorting out his station for the next ‘victim’. 

“I swear to God, I’ll spam the shop’s page with that platypus prowl!” 

It was enough for her to start humming the music. Walk of the baby elephant or whatever it was. She clearly should not be allowed on the internet. She absently let Stick move her arm around - she did not mind, and was still not so old as to have capricious joints. 

A kid walked in - well, relatively speaking. A former student of hers, that she remembered somehow. She remembered pretty much all her students and it was a bit of a curse sometimes. It meant she remembered all the faces from her life and some, she would rather forget. She did not remember his name, though. 

She did not follow the conversation between the kid and Poke - probably about design. And then, his father got there and Hell broke loose. She cast a glance at Stick, and noticed that, like Poke - and herself - he was trying not to react. She understood. She waited for the man to say something that would give her a way into the conversation. The kid was seething, but remained silent. Which was probably for the best. 

“Who would hire anyone with tattoos anyway?”

“Excuse me. Sir. If you want an answer, I can offer one.” She used her ‘non-threatening and falsely unsure’ tone that always worked wonders with men. It worked with him too, as he turned to stare at her, a condescending look upon his face. 

“Oh yeah, young lady? Who then?”

She resisted the urge to say that she was probably his age. “You can get a PhD, get a teaching degree, work at top-ranking faculties, while having tattoos. You can become a doctor, a physicist, a lawyer, get any so-called respectable job. You can be an artist, a director, an actor, musician, whatever you want. The ink you have on your skin means nothing in terms of competence.”

“You gave it some thought then.”

“Sir, with all due respect, having tattoos doesn’t impact your capacity for human decency. I’ve dealt with parents in my career who were hell-bent on destroying their own children, and most of them were not tattooed punks, as you said earlier.”

She smiled ever so sweetly, and moved back to talking to Stick, blatantly ignoring that man who was getting all puffed up. He stormed out. 

“Thanks, Ms Scaligeri.” So, he remembered her. Or maybe it was the sass. She was aware that her students had caught on that very early and somehow, she sometimes met her students’ siblings who went ‘oh, you’re the Sass Teacher’. Good. 

“Heh, you’re welcome, kiddo. Hope your old man won’t give you Hell over this, though.”

“Nah.” The kid was damn smirking. “Honestly, he’ll be too ashamed that anyone talked him down to say anything.”

“Told your class two years ago. I toast people for a living.”

Later, when Stick was having a break because ‘all that lace, you’re mad!’, he asked her about murdering parents.

“I don’t talk about this during the day, that’d ruin the effect.” But she had considered it a few times.

“But what if people ask you?”

“If they’re not your own parents, you can’t ask me. Not sure you mean your own.”

He remained silent, and she left him be. It was a weird conversation to have. She could guess who it was for. She had met kids like him while teaching high-school - and still now, she sometimes met students who reminded her of said kids. It was something she could never fathom, and goodness knows she never really wanted children. It just happened, and yes, there were days she completely failed at parents - and there had been times she had terrorized her kids. 

Once had been a memorable time driving down the highway in the middle of the night because she had gotten a call to get the fuck away from the flat. It was before they had the house. Someone she worked with compromised her. She had no way to contact Jango. She had to drive until she ran out of gas, pretty much. And she had been so scared that when Boba had complained once too many about being cold and too long in the car, and hungry, that she had stopped and yelled at them that sure, she could stop the car, and maybe they’ll die but who cared so long they had a sandwich. She had not meant to but it had shut the both of them up. She had immediately felt like shit, and ended up breaking down in front of her kids. 

It was the only time she considered leaving them with Jango or her parents and just leaving because her kids did not deserve such a shitty mother. To this day, she remembered this as her very worst moment of parenthood, and she still apologized to them - especially when she got cranky behind the wheel. She was not sure if they were aware of it, but they usually went absolutely quiet if she started fuming. Whenever she noticed, she stopped the car, and offered them to drive. It usually worked. But she felt like shit. As such, she stopped driving them places when they got their driving license - they were the ones driving.

“Nix?” 

“Heh? What, sorry?”

“I was saying that you could move your arm. You’re clutching the armrest.”

“Sorry.” She moved as Stick directed her so he could go on. 

The sound of the gun and the buzzing pain helped bringing her back to the present. She never liked dwelling on that kind of memories. She was not the best person around, no matter how hard she tried. But all in all, the fact remained that she would never forgive some people for willfully hurting their kids. 

“Some people are not parents material.”

Shit, she did say that out loud. Shit shit shit shit shit! The ‘shit’ must have registered on her face, because Stick shook his head. 

“You’re good.”

“Duh. Not always. But yeah. You’d think people would have caught on contraception being a thing.”

“I thought you said your kids were an accident? Pot and kettle…”

“I do my best not to make them pay for my own stupidity.”

“They’re lucky. You’re certainly a better parent than most.”

She did something she never expected to do, but it just… felt natural? She put her free hand on Stick’s shoulder, barely touching him. 

“Being a parent is not an exact science. I don’t know if I’m better. Only my kids could answer that. And so far the answer was ‘not too shitty, but can we still binge watch  _ Farscape _ ?’” She removed her hand completely and changed the subject to ‘whatever is the latest dumb shit people wanted to get inked with’ which was safer and a lot more entertaining - for her, at least. 

Later, when she was getting ready to leave - and paying - Stick asked her if she had let her kids binge watch  _ Farscape _ .

“I did, but their father had to watch with them. At least I had peace and quiet, but they were complete zombies afterwards.” 


End file.
